


Hope Is a Waking Dream

by reve_silencieux



Series: The Last Con [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reve_silencieux/pseuds/reve_silencieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although he and Mozzie had come to an understanding, there would always be a level of distrust between them. Meeting up in an abandoned warehouse and holding Neal’s painting in his hands wasn’t helping Peter’s nerves, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Is a Waking Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hope Is a Waking Dream  
> ~Aristotle

Peter absently tapped the tube against his leg and glanced at his watch, then scanned his surroundings for the fourth time in less than ten minutes. Although he and Mozzie had come to an understanding (and certainly Mozzie was happy with how the take down had gone in Amsterdam) there would always be a level of distrust between them. Meeting up in an abandoned warehouse and holding Neal’s painting in his hands wasn’t helping Peter’s nerves, though. 

He was walking a very fine line right now, acting as the unknown middleman between the two friends. It was a risk using Neal’s painting, but Peter wanted to take down Lucas Caldwell, and close the case. They wouldn’t be able to pin all the thefts on him, but it would still be considered a win and the pressure would be off. No more forgeries would be popping up, at least Neal’s, that is, and that was a good thing. The case could be quietly forgotten. That was all Peter wanted right now—to take the heat off of Neal.

In order to do that, he had to work with Mozzie to sell Caldwell a forgery. The sting in Amsterdam had obviously taken precedence over Caldwell, and then Neal didn’t have time to paint a forgery, not when he had a newborn. The case had been pushed to the side while others sprung up in its place and thanks to that, Peter had been able to hold off the higher ups. But even as ASAC, he still had to account for open cases, especially high profile thefts like the one at the Brooklyn Museum.

Christopher was now four months old, and Neal was at home with the kids for the summer, so he’d been able to paint the Cézanne that Mozzie had decided on. At first Neal had been hesitant when Peter had asked, and rightfully so. Not even a month after finding Neal, Peter had volunteered him without running it by him. It had been a dangerous, stupid idea, Peter had acknowledged afterwards. No case was worth Neal’s safety.

It was only after Gregory’s death that he’d finally considered asking Neal. He’d been fully prepared to be turned down. Then Neal had called him back after thinking on it for a few days and agreed to help. They set up a mailbox in another state that would then forward to Peter, so it could be shipped without leaving a direct trail between them. It was still risky, even with the precautions they put into place, but Neal had understood that closing the case and putting his own name to rest was the best for everyone involved. 

Peter only hoped Mozzie wouldn’t ask too many questions. Thankfully, he knew Mozzie believed in anonymity as much as he believed in his crazy conspiracy theories.

“Van Gogh once said, ' _I put my heart and my soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process.'_ ”

Peter jumped and clutched his chest. He turned around and glared at Mozzie. “Do you have to sneak up on people? I’m the only one here.”

Mozzie rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should be more aware of your surroundings, Suit.”

He pushed down the urge to strangle the man, and gritted his teeth. “As much as I hate to suggest it, we could have just met at my house like civilized people.” He’d long ago given up on keeping the con man from his home, especially since El spent time with him. Peter just made sure to keep FBI files out of sight and valuables in his safe.

“Oh sure, let’s just tell the whole world we’re collaborating while we’re at it. I’m sure Caldwell would love to know he’s working with the FBI.”

Peter silently counted to ten, then took a deep breath. He held up the poster tube, which proudly proclaimed it was from ‘Posters Galore!’ “How about we get on with it?”

Mozzie grunted and cocked his head towards a door on the opposite wall. “Fine, follow me.”

They walked into an office, and Mozzie quickly got to work covering an old dusty desk with a bedsheet he pulled out from his bag. Then he snapped on gloves and wordlessly held out his hand for the painting. Peter handed it over and moved to the side as Mozzie carefully tipped it out and unrolled it on the desk. He bent over and gave it a sniff, then stood back and stared at it. He tilted his head one way, then another, and finally lowered his head again, examining the painting with his nose inches away from the canvas.

Peter watched nervously, not because he didn’t think it was pass Mozzie’s inspection, but that Mozzie might recognize Neal’s work. He didn’t know how to hold off the inquisition if that happened and wondered if he could manage a believable lie. Unlikely. But he had to try.

Mozzie suddenly stood up straight, pulled out a magnifying glass and bent back over the painting. Two agonizing minutes later, he jerked away from the desk and spun on his feet, a murderous look on his face.

Peter felt his stomach drop. This was not going to end well.

“ _Where is he?_ ” he exploded.

Peter’s eyebrows shot up and he hoped he looked as surprised as he felt. “Who? The artist? I think you of all people should be able to respect my keeping a source confidential.”

Mozzie narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play with me, Suit. I know the best forgers in this business, and no one can hold a candle to Neal. This is his work.”

“Maybe you don’t know everyone, have you considered that?” Peter crossed his arms over his chest and stared him down. “Or the possibly that this person is legit? The FBI has resources. They don’t always involve criminal informants _or_ forgers.”

“No one gets this good without having less than honorable intentions. Trust me, I know. Neal is proof alone.”

Peter held his tongue and took a deep breath. He was doing this for Neal, he reminded himself. Dealing with Mozzie was a headache and once this case was over, he’d probably never see him again. Mozzie would disappear into the ether—which was probably best for everyone involved. Peter’s sanity and blood pressure couldn’t take much more, especially if Mozzie kept insisting that Neal was alive. There was only so much he could do to hold off the man’s questions. Plus, it was best for Neal if Mozzie didn’t start digging into the matter. If Neal ever did decide to let his friend know the truth, Peter wanted to be far, far away.

“Mozzie, I know it’s a hard concept for you to believe, but there are some people out there that _aren’t_ tempted to steal and con.” He held out a hand to cut off the argument he saw coming from a mile away. “And even _if_ I did use someone from your world, there’s no chance in hell I’d tell you who it is, because I know you’re just wanting to recruit someone new.”

He was rewarded with a scowl, but at least it got Peter away from the topic of Neal. Whether Mozzie believed him was highly doubtful—and another issue entirely. Now, Peter just wanted to leave without Mozzie interrogating him.

“So, I take it that the painting passes muster, then?” Peter asked and rested his hands on his hips. He had to stay in control of the situation.

Mozzie glared at him. “It’ll do.” He turned back to the painting and silently rolled it up.

Peter sighed and dropped his hands to his side. “Look, I’m sorry. But not everything is a conspiracy.” Mozzie let out a bitter laugh and shook his head, keeping his back to Peter while he worked. Peter closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Just because Neal died while helping Interpol-”

“And they covered it up!” Mozzie exclaimed, spinning back around and pointed the tube at Peter angrily.

Peter narrowed his eyes, “-does not mean that there’s some bigger conspiracy at play. Neal is dead.” He mentally cringed at the outright lie, but this was still Neal’s decision. Gregory might not be a threat anymore, but that didn’t mean Neal was completely safe. Neal’s name still meant something in the criminal world, even if most had long forgotten him. Anyone with a grudge or a need for a forgery could come after him, use his family or friends as leverage, or worse.

While he knew that Mozzie would probably give his life for his best friend, he also knew that circumstances changed and anything was possible. It was still best to let everyone believe that Neal was dead. Even if he left WitSec. Neal Caffrey was never going to make another appearance.

Peter was not going to be the cause of any more pain or heartbreak. He did not want the blood of Neal or his family on his hands. Mozzie would just have to deal.

They stood there in a staring match until Mozzie finally broke, and he shook his head. “They still covered it up. Why would they need to do that?”

Sighing, Peter ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. But that doesn’t change anything now.”

“Fine. I see how it is. You suits are all alike.” Mozzie balled up the sheet and stuffed it in his bag. “I’ll set up a meeting with Caldwell. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, Suit.”

He turned and left the room, and Peter let out a sigh. The relief he felt was bittersweet, since he was knowingly keeping Mozzie from his best friend. He could only hope that in time, Mozzie could move on from the pain of Neal’s death—whether he found out the truth or not.

*~*~*~*

“Your painting was too good.”

There was a short pause on the other end of the phone. “Excuse me?”

Peter wanted to laugh. Five years ago, Neal would have been beaming like a peacock at the mention of his talents. He appreciated Neal’s new found maturity, but almost missed the cocky young man with his big grin and indestructible ego. He knew telling Neal was possibly a mistake, but Peter had to tell him about Mozzie. Whether or not Mozzie believed Peter’s line about FBI resources was one thing, but Mozzie still had suspicions about Neal’s death to begin with. The paranoid con man was right about the cover up and the fact that Interpol ostensibly had no reason to spread the misinformation about the accident. 

“He immediately demanded to know where you were—pretty much declared it was your work on the spot. It took some quick thinking on my part to convince him that I got it from other means, as in not anyone he knew or from the greater forging community, but I’m not so sure he believed me.”

Neal chuckled. “I don’t think he ever believes anything that comes from someone in authority.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Peter remarked, and smiled ruefully. He reminded himself that he was glad _he_ got to know the truth.

“We knew it was a risk that he might recognize my work.”

They did, and Neal had brought it up from the beginning, but in the end, they both felt it was necessary to go ahead. Peter hesitated. “Why didn’t you dumb it down a little? I’m sure it would still have been okay, even to Mozzie’s high standards.”

There was a heavier pause this time, and Peter wondered for the first time if maybe Neal _had_ wanted Mozzie to notice.

“I guess I wanted to give Mozzie a little hope.”

Peter didn’t say anything. There was nothing he _could_ say to that. This was Neal’s life. He was the one who had lived in silence for five years. Now he had contact with Peter. It was probably too tempting for Neal to finally reach out now that he had a measure of safety. Maybe he wasn’t ready now, but in the future… it was a possibility.

And he was right. Mozzie deserved to have some hope, because having Neal alive in any way was better than nothing.

*~*~*~*

_“Faith is not belief without proof, but trust without reservation.”_ Mozzie raised his glass to the painting before him.

“Good game, mon frère.”

Fin


End file.
